It has a great artistic direction, a marvelous soundtrack made by Disasterpeace and a nice challenge. IfI eat smart enough, run fast enough, and pray to the many-tentacled god of good luck hard enough, maybe my starship is just about to turn the corner.Definitely worth playing. I'm currently still stuck on that rock, praying and scrambling for a bit of luck and direction. This is my corner of the world, and I'm going to inhabit it with every scrap of dignity I can cling onto. My sadness and frustrations are fuel, if only for when sheer determination fails me. If I'm going to be a retail worker, burger cook, or a janitor, by god I'm going to be the best damn one around. Having lost count of how many days and nightsI've spent collecting junk, it's nice to be reminded that embracing the bad with the good isn't something to be frowned upon. I don't want to get rid of it,' and that's a valid way to play." Some people think the skull is so annoying and ask how to get rid of it, but some are like, 'I like the skull.It's cute, and it keeps me on my toes. That being said, after all this time, I've grown to appreciate the skull. "But I like to think that it applies to anything that can hang over you. "When we originally came up with, it was a depression metaphor, and still is," Shasha said. "We wanted to make it clear that the skull wasn't a character in the same way as you were or anyone else was," Horton said. The cursed skull is as apt a metaphor for depression or anxiety, refit as an ally,constantly breathing down your neck, only to flare up at random intervals with an unsettling bark. Routine isn't necessarily easy, but it is a practiced skill. At some point in my own working class life, both real and digital, the sense of comfort provided by a modest routine became warm and familiar. I see him guarding the bank the very next day.īut Diaries of a Spaceport Janitor isn't all about a doomed existence. On my way home, a gun-slinging thug robs me. I throw my last credits into a conveniently named "Gender Kiosk." "Congratulations," it says. My vision goes blurry, and I'm told that my alien body needs to conduct its regular gender change. I'm short by 30 credits, and I've begun puking up my morning breakfast. A literal slime ball with eyes asks me for some smutty magazines in exchange for the magical tablet piece I need. Instead, I'm staring down the barrel of a 25-credit paycheck, barely enough to buy two meals with. The next morning, I boot up myPrayStation, keen to collect my reward. It's probably the most"video game" thing to happen to me yet, but the day is done, and my incinerator battery is dead. After all, what is there left do but laugh at our pain?Ī wizardly worm-turtle-thing informs me my curse can only be lifted by restoring a broken magical tablet. Rather than over-promising, Diaries scales back,turning a frustrating fantasy into something relatable (being lost in both a physical and emotional aspect), but absurd and charming too. Games like NoMan's Sky and Assassin's Creed promise infinite worlds full of infinite content, but quickly become exercises in repetition and boredom thanks to a dearth of variety. Like its protagonist, Diaries of a SpaceportJanitor inescapably lives in the shadow of something larger. Our game uses the same system-it's just that you're not expecting to get anywhere." That's this sort of mythologized capitalist fantasy. "In most games, you do X thing, and you get immediate feedback and progress. "Video games and capitalism go together like peanut butter and jelly," said Shasha. One is selling gems that give you ten points toward magic, while another offers high-powered rifles that can tear through any intergalactic beast. Between the constant scouring of trash, the constant beckoning of shop vendors reminds you of your place. If there is one thing that Diaries of aSpaceport Janitor absolutely understands, it's the crushing weight of uncertainty and instability that working-class living brings about. A juggling anthropomorphic pear tells me heprays every day so he may become more beautiful.
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